The Couple at No. 9(29)

‘I don’t need any more food,’ his dad snaps, when Theo walks into the kitchen with his trusty cool-bag filled with a chicken curry and a cottage pie. ‘I’ve got a freezer full of them. I eat at the golf club most nights anyway.’

Honestly, Theo doesn’t know why he fucking bothers. God, he’d love to tell his father where to go. But even though his mum has been dead for fourteen years he can’t bring himself to do it. She’d be disappointed in him, he knows it.

‘Actually,’ says Theo, dumping the bag on the table. ‘I came here to ask you something.’ His heart pounds beneath his T-shirt. He imagines Jen behind him, encouraging him to continue.

‘What’s that, then?’ His father has one of his golf clubs in his hand and is buffing the end of it with a rag. He’d tried to teach Theo golf once, when he was thirteen. He bought him a set of his own irons and taught him the name of each one. Theo had hated every minute of it, but kept it up for more than a year to please him. But when his father realized Theo was never going to be any good, he lost interest in teaching him.

Theo takes a deep breath. ‘Last week when I came over I found a newspaper article on your desk. It was about this couple from Wiltshire who were doing some kind of renovations and found two skeletons in their garden. You’d underlined two women’s names and then there were the words, “Find Her”.’

His father stops polishing his club but doesn’t look up. Instead his muscular shoulders tense, and the tendon in his neck bulges. ‘Have you been snooping around my things?’

‘No, of course not.’

His dad stands up, golf club still in hand. For a wild moment Theo wonders if he’s going to smack him with it. His father is looking at him now. His blue eyes are icy. ‘Then mind your own fucking business.’

Theo tries to hide his shock. His dad hasn’t spoken to him like that in years. ‘Who are you trying to find?’

‘Did you not hear me?’ His dad moves two paces towards him. His face has darkened. The old familiar fear resurfaces in Theo.

I’m not that scared little kid any more, he reminds himself.

‘Why won’t you talk about it? Maybe I can help?’

His dad lets out a nasty-sounding laugh. ‘You?’

Why are you such a prick? thinks Theo. But he stands his ground. Refuses to move back towards the door. ‘Yes, me. Do you know the couple from Wiltshire?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then why the article?’

He puts the golf club down, leaning it against the kitchen table and Theo lets out a small sigh of relief. ‘I just used it to write on. Not that it’s got anything to do with you.’

He’s lying. His dad must think he’s an idiot.

‘So what does Find Her mean?’

‘Why does everything have to have some hidden meaning with you? What is it you really want to ask me, huh? What is this really all about?’ He stares at Theo, his mouth set hard. ‘I’m a grown man, and I don’t have to run everything I do past you. Do you understand?’

Theo stares back. What are you hiding, Dad? Because I know you’re hiding something. ‘I’m not playing games,’ says Theo, trying to keep his voice even. ‘I’m asking you about that article, that’s all. You’ve seemed very preoccupied lately, like something’s troubling you.’

‘The only thing troubling me is you,’ he snaps.

Theo takes a deep breath. There’s no point in arguing with his father when he’s in this mood. He holds his hands up. ‘Fine, I’ll leave you to it, then.’ He picks up the bag from the table. ‘I take it you don’t want these?’

His dad scowls in response.

‘Then I’ll take them. Jen and I will eat them.’ He marches out of the kitchen with the bag and doesn’t look back until he’s behind the wheel of his Volvo. He half hopes his dad will follow him, to apologize. But, of course, he doesn’t. Theo dumps the cool-bag on the passenger seat and sits for a few minutes without turning on the ignition, guilt raining down on him, as it always does. Was he out of order? Should he have handled it differently?

Your dad’s just old-school, his mum used to say gently. He’s not very good at showing his emotions. But he loves us. He was never sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Theo knows he shouldn’t be surprised his dad hasn’t revealed anything. After his mum died Theo had tried talking about her, but his dad had refused to be drawn. Burying his grief under even more layers of bitterness and anger, like a well-cooked lasagne.

And now this. This extra mystery. The two dead bodies in a Wiltshire garden more than two hundred miles away. And the words Find Her in his father’s sprawling handwriting.

It finally hits him that he’ll never get answers from his dad. It’s been too many years. Too many unanswered questions. He’s just going to have to do some digging of his own.

But where to start? he thinks later, much later, after his shift at the restaurant has ended. Jen is fast asleep upstairs but he is still buzzing. His body is dog tired, his feet ache after standing up all evening, but his mind is too active and he can’t switch off.

Google, he thinks. He’ll start there.

He goes to his laptop, which lives on the dining-room table in their two-bedroom Victorian terrace, the glow of the screen the only light in the room. It reflects back at him from the French windows that lead to the garden.